


Silent Games

by Tarlan



Series: Silent World [6]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-10-19
Updated: 2002-10-19
Packaged: 2017-10-20 13:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nemesis</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Games

_Telling odd stories from a distant past  
Most are remembered, the good and the bad  
Like an old winding river in a curious plot  
Leading it all back, to somewhere the same  
That mystery game.  
 **Mystery Game**_ by **Clannad**

****

The tapping on his door brought Chris's head up sharply, but as he started to reach for his gun he heard the voice of Judge Travis calling out to him. Chris opened the door, keeping the gun in his hand hidden behind him but he dropped it back into its holster when he saw that the Judge was alone.

"What can I do for you, Judge?"

"Our prisoner has a story to tell that would interest you."

Chris gave a feral grin as he thought of the snakelike John Blackfox, sitting over in the jail listening to the sound of the gallows being prepared outside just for him. The man had drifted into these parts far too often for his own good, especially as he had an aversion to buying his own horses. Blackfox's greatest mistake, however, was trying to lay claim to Vin Tanner's ornery excuse for a horse, and it had been a real pleasure watching his lover's relentless pursuit of the thief. The only problem was that Vin hadn't wanted to stick around for the hanging, but Chris could understand that. With the fear of his own neck being placed in a noose, Vin had gained a certain aversion to watching a man hang.

"Just jail house lies, Judge. You know it."

"I'm not so sure this time, Chris. Says he knows something about a double murder that took place three years back, out near Eagle Bend. Your wife and child."

Chris felt his mouth go dry, anger welling up from deep inside that this piece of shit could try to lie his way out of a hanging by mentioning his murdered family. He pushed passed the Judge and stalked off down the corridor, taking the stairs three at a time, then strode across the street to the jail.

"JD?"

"I was...ah... just about ready to take a break."

Chris didn't bother to wait for JD to leave, although he registered the closing of the jail door as JD scurried away. Instead, he grabbed the keys from where they hung near the cells and opened the door to the only one that was inhabited. The man inside watched with growing concern as Chris approached him.

"I hear you're interested in making a deal?"

Relief sprang into the dark eyes and Blackfox stood up, eager to save his neck from being stretched. "Who are you?"

"Chris." His fist leaped out, hitting the man squarely on the chin. "Chris Larabee."

Moments later, Chris was dragging the snake from the cell having secured Blackfox's hands behind his back. He hauled him over to the water trough and shoved the man's head under the water, ignoring the shocked looks on the faces of passers-by. The white heat of anger flamed through Chris and he swore he would make this man regret that he'd ever tried to use Chris's family as a means of saving his worthless hide. But first he'd make sure the man recanted his story, and then he'd take a ringside seat to watch Blackfox take that long drop on a short rope.

"The woman's name was Sarah. She was my wife. The boy's name was Adam. My son."

"I didn't kill 'em, mister."

"Who did?"

"I don't know that neither." Chris dunked him once more, holding him under with a strength borne out of anger. Blackfox began spluttering but instead of admitting it was all lies, he began to describe the part he had played in it, how he was hired for $50 along with two other cowboys.

"Liar!"

"No... No, I'm not."

Chris shoved Blackfox's head under the water one more time, his anger fading to exasperation as Blackfox continued to press on with his story. Chris blamed Mary Travis for this. Soon after he came to town she had printed a story about the fire in her damned newspaper in some mistaken belief that it would make the local citizen's more sympathetic and, hence, more accepting of his presence. Instead he'd had to endure their pitying looks for weeks, only his unwillingness to break his word to the Judge preventing him from saddling up and riding out.

"Everybody around here knows about that fire. You're telling me jail house lies to save your miserable skin. You're going back to jail."

He shoved Blackfox ahead of him but the man turned, eyes wide in fear, words falling from his lips in a rush as he tried to describe the Larabee ranch. When he told Chris that the corral had been about 50 yards back from the windmill, Chris had sneered, knowing that many ranches followed a similar pattern but then Blackfox mentioned something that only a horse thief might have noticed; that the corral had been empty.

"I could tell you more if I was standing there."

"Bet you could."

However, Chris had a gut feeling that Blackfox was not playing some mystery game with him, that the man really did know something about what happened to his family that night. With some trepidation, he placed Blackfox back into his jail cell and went to look for the Judge.

As he walked back across the street he noticed, for the first time, that he was unarmed, suddenly feeling naked and vulnerable as the curious townsfolk stared at him. Until that moment he had been wishing Vin was here but now he was grateful the man had not witnessed his loss of good sense, imagining the silent scathing he would have come under from an angry Vin Tanner.

****

Within an hour, Chris had gained the Judge's permission to take Blackfox on a ride east of the town, out passed Eagle Bend. Josiah and Nathan had agreed to accompany him, though he ardently wished there was some way he could track down Vin instead. This would be the first time he had gone back to the burned out shell of what had once been his home since the day he and Buck had buried Sarah and Adam. Having Vin riding by his side would have made the journey far less harrowing, knowing he would have someone to lean on should the memories overwhelm him. He pushed these weak thoughts aside and stepped outside.

"Are we ready?"

"Just about."

Chris barely acknowledged Nathan's reply as he strode towards his horse, his thoughts already filling with memories, both good and bad. He was surprised when a small man called his name.

"Chris Larabee, right?" Chris looked back as the man rambled on about making him famous and it was not until Jock Steele mentioned chronicling his search for justice that the earlier words penetrated. He gave the man a look of disdain then saddled up.

"Not coming with us."

"But I have to..."

With lips tightened in anger, Chris pulled on the reins to turn his horse, silently seething at the audacity of people who, like Mary Travis, took liberties with other people's grief to promote themselves. He remembered the two incidents that had already touched on his privacy; the lies Mary had written concerning that first gunfight where he and Vin had saved Nathan from an unjust hanging, and her piece about the death of his family.

"Won't stop you from writing it."

He urged his horse onwards, not having to look to see if Nathan, Josiah and their prisoner were following. Eventually, as they moved away from the town, Chris found his fraying temper beginning to settle. He had questions and he needed answers. He drew up alongside Blackfox.

"Tell me about the two men you rode with that night."

Blackfox had very little information for him having never met the men before or since. He recalled only one small detail about one of the men; that he had what he said was a single lucky silver spur jangling on one boot. As for the man who hired Blackfox, all he could tell Chris was that the man rode a big horse, 16 hands high, and that one of the cowboys had said it reminded him of General Lee's. It had to be a big gray. It made sense that a compulsive horse thief like Blackfox would remember the horse and not the man but, still, Chris wondered if Blackfox was playing some sort of game with him; a game of silence, only offering snippets of information when necessary. Any further questions were forgotten when Josiah called out that they had a rider coming in fast.

It was Buck. Chris tightened his lips and gave Buck a sideways glance.

"You out for a ride?"

"Heard you were going back."

"No need for you to come along."

"Yes, sir.. there is. I'm the man who talked you into staying down in Mexico that night. I keep thinking, if we just rode back..."

Chris smiled bitterly. He had blamed Buck at first, causing a rift in their friendship that was slowly healing only since coming to this town. It had taken him a long time to realize that Buck had not responsible for what happened that night, and that Chris had to take the blame for his own actions. The months following that knowledge had been the worst as he sank to the lowest levels of bitterness and grief, suddenly aware that he had been drinking and laughing with his friend while his family was being burned alive. It was a time when he would have welcomed a bullet, the only thing keeping him going being his desire to find the people responsible, to see justice meted out for Sarah and Adam.

"I could have come back alone. You didn't keep me there. Let it go."

"Sarah was my friend too, Chris. And I think you know how I felt about that boy of yours. So if it's all the same, I think I'll ride this one out with you."

Chris grimaced. It was easy to forget that Buck had loved them too, that he was not the only person grieving at their loss.

"Suit yourself."

****

Chris settled under his blanket, eyes watching the dancing flames of the campfire, feeling colder and more alone than ever.

What I wouldn't give to have you here right now, Vin.

He wanted to feel those strong arms around him, holding him tight against heated flesh. He wanted to hear the whisper of that Texan drawl as Vin told him odd stories from the past; of buffalo hunts and manhunts. He wanted to feel those hot, agile fingers caressing him, wanted those soft lips pressing firmly upon his own, sharing tastes and pleasure. He wanted to hear Vin's heartbeat as he lay his head on the muscular chest, wanted to feel the blood throbbing through Vin's veins, and the rise and fall as his lungs filling with air then emptying with a sigh.

Vin had crept to his room in the early hours. Was it only that morning? It seemed as if a lifetime had passed since then. He had watched as Vin stripped quietly, laying his gun rig close by before sliding into the warm bed.

And they had made love.

Chris sighed, willing to admit that what he and Vin did together was love and not just a physical release. He knew the difference, not that it needed a great deal of expertise to tell love from the few sweaty minutes spent laying some two-bit whore. There was such caring in Vin's caress, the way those callused fingers gently stroked across his flesh, igniting every nerve ending they passed over, setting his body on fire with need and desire.

Chris felt his body respond to the now distant memory, recalling how Vin had followed those clever fingers with his mouth; his lips and tongue teasing a nipple, sharp teeth worrying at the hardened nub. A curtain of hair had hidden Vin's face and Chris could remember the fresh outdoor scent of that hair, of pine and spring water. His own fingers had parted the silken curtain, gazing down to meet eyes full of mischief and passion.

Silent games.

Vin loved to play these silent games, slowly teasing him, bringing him to a frenzy where he was forced to bite into the pillow to smother his cries of passion. One day he would lose all control. One day he would cry out so loudly that they would have people kicking down his door, figuring he was being murdered.

Could you die of too much pleasure? God, I hope so. Better than a bullet. Rather burn in the heat of your passion than die the way...

The thought came like a bucket of ice-cold water, his erection wilting, his body shivering from a coldness that was far greater than skin deep.

"You okay, Chris?"

"Yeah, Buck. Just feeling the cold tonight." And missing Vin.

****

Vin drew out his harmonica and played a few notes in no particular order, letting the sound comfort him, easing away some of the loneliness. He stared deep into the small fire he had built to keep away the chill of the desert night air now that the heatwave of the past few weeks had broken. If he looked hard enough he fancied he could see images of Chris writhing beneath his touch as he played the man with far more skill than he had with this harmonica. It was a game he loved, softly laughing as he recalled how his lover would try to smother himself in the pillow to stop the cries of passion from bleeding through the thin walls of his boarding room.

What Vin truly wanted was another excuse for taking off somewhere private with Chris. He wanted to hear Chris scream out his name without inhibition. He wanted to hear those soft moans and that infectious laughter as his fingers found sensitive places on his lover's body.

Vin blew a few more tuneless notes, hearing them drift upon the still night air, solitary sounds that seemed to echo in the vastness surrounding him. He wondered if Chris was in his soft bed, remembering how it felt when he snuck into that room, sliding into that bed and caressing his lover. Had it only been the early hours of this morning? It already seemed like a lifetime since he had held Chris.

The familiar voice echoed in his head as the memory swept over him; a voice that was trying to be firm but instead was tinged with laughter.

"Shit, you're cold. Damn cowboy."

"Figured you'd warm me up."

"Shouldn't be here, Vin. What if someone saw you."

"No one saw me, and no one need know I'm here if you'd quit complaining so loudly."

"Damn cowboy."

Muffled laughter had followed as Vin stroked over the ribcage, fingers light and teasing, refusing to stop even when Chris squirmed away.

"Already said that... Cowboy."

He had emphasized the final word, earning himself some retaliation as Chris struck as fast as a rattler, rolling Vin beneath him and trapping his hands. Vin had grinned up into the laughter-filled face, his heart skipping a beat at the beauty poised above him and at the caring he saw shining in those pleasure-softened eyes. Vin had closed his eyes as Chris brushed his lips with his own, moaning softly in appreciation. He could taste the whiskey they had been drinking together in the saloon earlier, and the smokiness of the cheroot that Chris would indulge in before settling down for the night.

With a swift movement, Vin turned the tables, pinning Chris beneath him. He kicked back the covers to expose the beautiful body to the cooler night air, grateful for the full moon that gave more than enough light for him to see every inch of exposed flesh...

Vin focused back on the small campfire. Folks had always praised his senses, awed by his sharp eyes and ears, by his steady hands that could pull a trigger and take a man down with such ease. He had always been bemused by their awe, never understanding why something so natural to him should be so amazing to others - until he met Chris. Now he understood that awe, and he felt it deep inside whenever he was near Chris. Seeing him, touching him, scenting him, noticing how his senses became even sharper when Chris was beside him, and sharper still when he held his lover naked in his arms.

Hope you ain't pissed off with me, Cowboy.

He hoped Chris understood why he needed to get away from the town on this day. Hangings never bothered him until the day they put a bounty on his head for a murder he hadn't committed. Now, every time he saw a man hung, he found he was visualizing himself in that man's place; feeling the noose slung around his neck, hearing the jeering and laughter of the crowd as they watched like it was some kind of play being acted out before them. When the man dropped Vin felt the noose tighten around his own throat, choking the life out of him.

Ones like Blackfox were lucky; short rope, long drop. He'd be dead in seconds, the pull of the earth and the shortness of the rope ensuring his neck snapped before he'd even have time to realize his feet were no longer on solid ground. Vin felt the bile rise in his gorge as he remembered the way Nathan had swung on that rope - short rope but not so long a drop - slowly choking, face turning red then blue as he twitched uselessly.

Before Eli Joe had taken his freedom, Vin had seen many a botched hanging. Saw men twisting on the end of the rope, tongues swollen, eyes bulging, and he'd always been tempted to draw his gun and end the victim's torment.

"Damn it."

He threw a piece of wood onto the fire, sending sparks high into the night air in the hope of destroying the terrifying images. His forced his thoughts back to Chris, to the way he had teased his lover with fingers, lips and tongue as he suckled on one hardened, sensitive nipple. He had felt Chris's hands in his hair, pushing aside the long curls, and he had looked up in mischievous pleasure at the passion-consumed eyes.

Could a man die from too much pleasure?

Vin hoped so, knowing that he'd rather die writhing in pleasure in Chris's arms than twisting in pain at the end of a rope.

He threw another stick onto the small fire and pulled his hat low. Tomorrow he would return to the town and hope the hanging had not been delayed for some reason.

****

Very little had changed since he last stood on his land. Chris gazed down at the two graves, reading the names he had written there with a shaking hand so many years before. Sarah Larabee and Adam Larabee. To most people those markers would tell them nothing, but Chris was assailed by a deluge of memories that drifted across the land with the slight breeze. He could almost hear Adam's childish laughter, calling Buck's name, demanding a ride. Chris listened harder, letting the memory of that last day flow over him.

"Come on, Buck. Give me a ride."

If he turned, Chris was certain he would see Buck's smiling face as he pulled Adam onto the saddle in front of him. He knew he would see Sarah's pleasure and exasperation as she handed him a small cloth bundle containing sandwiches for the trip down into Mexico. It would be heavy for he knew she would have made enough to feed two hungry men. He remembered pulling Adam from Buck's horse, telling him to look after his Mama. He had hugged his boy close, feeling the small, warm body wrap around his for a moment and then he had kissed Sarah, saddled up and ridden away, looking back only once and smiling as she rubbed the swollen belly that held their second child.

Adam's voice came drifting in the breeze. "Goodbye, Papa."

Chris blinked away the moistness filling his eyes, lips thinning in grief. He was strangely thankful that Vin had not been here after all, as he knew he might have given into the all-consuming pain of loss had Vin spoken but one word, or made just one comforting gesture. He would have tumbled into Vin's arms, and he would have bawled like a small child. Instead, he hardened his heart, turned away from those two lonely graves and the bittersweet memories, stalking back across his land to where Blackfox waited.

"You're gonna tell me exactly what happened that night. You understand me? From the moment you set foot on my property to the moment you took the lives of my wife and son."

Blackfox's dark eyes filled with fear as he, once more, denied having a part in their deaths. Chris's eyes narrowed in hatred, his mouth tightening as he considered beating the truth out of the man but his thoughts were interrupted by a shout from Nathan. He followed Nathan back down the small river that run alongside his property, barely listening to Nathan as the healer explained what he had been doing down there and why whatever it was had not been found before today. Nathan stopped and Chris glanced down at the pair of feet that had been uncovered by the elements.

"Single spur."

Josiah's deep voice rumbled beside him. "Looks like we found the other two fellows Blackfox was riding with."

Both men had died from a single gunshot wound to the back of the neck, fired at point blank range. Chris listened as Nathan gave him an explanation for why he believed the executioner of those two men was left-handed like Josiah. It made a lot of sense, and it narrowed down the search.

"Left-handed. Big gray horse."

It was still not a huge amount to go on but far more than he had managed to ascertain in the previous three years. Chris realized there was nothing more to be found here, only memories of times that were lost forever, and so the next logical place had to be the saloon where Blackfox and those two men had been hired.

"We're going up to the saloon in Eagle Bend."

He took one last look around the remains of what had once been a happy home and strode towards his horse, waiting until the others had mounted up before riding away as if the ghosts of the past were hot on his heels.

****

The Sandpiper Saloon was exactly as he remembered it to be from all those years before. Nothing had changed except for the bartender. Chris had never seen the man before today and, judging by the sour expression on the man's face, he had a feeling the man would not be very helpful. Nevertheless, Chris owed it to Sarah and Adam to try and find their killer so he could bring him to justice, so he addressed the bartender with a great deal of restraint.

"I'm looking for some answers."

"I serve whiskey, not talk. Better go somewhere else."

Chris ignored the bartender's hostile response and carried on, describing the man he was looking for, watching incredulity light up the bartender's face.

"My God, you don't hear very well."

The bartender reached for a shotgun held just below the bar but Chris grabbed at him, anger fueling his muscles as he dragged the man over the top of the bar and threw him to the ground. He leaned over and grabbed the front of the man's shirt, snarling into the man's face his demand for a name, but all he gained was an addition to the man's description; the murderer of his family had a withered hand. Realizing he would obtain nothing more from the bartender, Chris stalked from the saloon, telling Josiah his intention to take a room at the boarding house next door.

****

Vin shook his head in annoyance, slapping the reins down hard but gaining little response from the stubborn team drawing the wagon.

Damn mules are more ornery than my horse.

He considered unhitching the mules and then hitching up some combination of his, JD's and Ezra's horses in their place. However, none of those horses was used to pulling a wagon and would probably be twice as stubborn as the damn mules. He was beginning to regret this foolish notion of taking the wagon rather than riding but, last night, thoughts of a slow journey back with Chris had made it seem such a great idea. It was a shame no one had a spare set of wagon horses that they could lend him, though Mrs. Potter had offered the ones that pulled her buckboard. However, that would have left her without any means of transport for the time Vin was away and Vin didn't want any reason to rush back to town.

"Should have quit this idea when he offered the damn mules."

"I believe I said as much to you, Mr. Tanner, when you embarked on this foolish venture."

Vin glared over at Ezra who had drawn up beside him. JD was flanking him on the other side and Vin could see how exasperated the younger man was becoming at their slow pace.

"Mr. Tanner? Night is fast approaching, and I would give the odds on us arriving in Eagle Bend before nightfall as..."

"Hell, Ez, I don't need you to tell me the odds on that. Can figure them out myself."

"Then perhaps it might be prudent to set up some primitive camp for the night and set out again in the morning."

Vin gave a grimace, eyes drifting to where the sun was hovering only a little way above the horizon. He reckoned they had about half an hour until nightfall.

"First light, Ez. We start out again at first light." He turned and gave Ezra an evil grin, inordinately pleased to see the dismay cross the gambler's face, knowing Ezra's aversion to rising before noon.

"First light, Mr. Tanner."

They stopped and set up camp quickly, Ezra no longer complaining about the wagon when Vin offered him the back to sleep in. Even the usual comments regarding the mess inside were left un-aired as if Ezra knew he'd be sleeping on the hard, dirty ground if he made such a remark. Truth be told, Vin had envisaged spending the night in the wagon spooned up behind Chris, and now that wasn't going to happen he shied away from sleeping in there alone. It was far better to lie on the hard ground and stare up at the stars, waiting for the moon to rise.

Vin took the first watch even though it seemed unnecessary to set one, but he knew he was wound too tight for sleep. Instead, he moved a fair distance from the camp and settled down in a well-concealed place, kneeling on the hard ground. Images of Chris came to mind easily; the blond, sun-kissed hair reflecting silver in the glow of moonlight, green eyes shining like stardust. Vin's hand drifted to the increasing bulge in his pants, rubbing firmly, enjoying the sensation that accompanied his last memory of Chris. He loosened his pants, drawing out his hardened shaft, his callused fingers smoothing the droplets of precome over the blunt head.

Vin closed his eyes, fist tightening around the length of his shaft as he recalled the feel of the hot channel clenching around him. He had thrust deeply, slowly, driving Chris wild with every stroke as he nudged against that sensitive spot inside. He could hear the soft cries muffled by the pillow, could just make out the pleading words; harder, faster.

Chris had arched beneath him, head thrown back, neck muscles taut, legs tightening around his waist... knuckles white as he held the pillow to his face, biting hard into one corner to stop his screams. Sticky heat had flooded between their close pressed bodies, internal muscles contracting hard around Vin's shaft, and Vin had released his own seed deep inside his beautiful lover.

Vin grunted in pleasure as that last memory triggered his climax, hot seed spilling over his busy fingers, spurting onto the ground in front of him. He shuddered as the last sensations rippled through his body, drawing his bandanna from his neck and using it to clean himself before tucking his quickly softening shaft back inside his pants. He tidied himself and sat back on his heels, licking his fingers and imagining he was tasting Chris rather than his own seed.

"Damn Cowboy."

Vin settled back down into a more comfortable position, the edge taken off his physical hunger but his mind and soul still craving his lover's touch. He wondered what Chris was doing right now, wondered whether he was thinking of him, and he sighed, shaking his head in dismay at his own foolish thoughts.

****

Blackfox's words of condolence were still echoing around his head as Chris entered the room that he had rented.

"I'm sorry about your wife and boy."

His sentiments had seemed genuine, his eyes clear with no sense of subterfuge hidden within them and yet Chris felt uneasy, unable to acknowledge the man's gesture. Instead he had turned away, returning to his horse and throwing the saddlebag over his shoulder. His steps were strangely heavy as he walked up the stairs and along the corridor to his room, as if it was the weight of the past that lay upon his shoulders rather than that saddlebag. Once inside the room, he dragged off his hat and hung it up, dropping the saddlebag down onto the bed with a heartfelt sigh.

Knowing that Vin was probably still back in the town they protected, the bed seemed uninviting; cold and empty. He doubted he would gain any sleep this night, wishing Vin had been there just to hold him and tell him more stories from the past. He loved the soft voice, enjoyed the fact that Vin could become so relaxed and talkative with him, especially after some good loving. However, Chris had a feeling that he would be the one talking tonight, if Vin had been here. He would tell Vin all about Sarah, about the day they married; a beautiful day spoiled only by her father's refusal to be present. He would tell him about the day he had paced nervously outside the ranch house, with Buck having to grab him to stop him racing back inside every time Sarah screamed, about the joy he felt when her voice was replaced by the cries of a newborn; his Adam.

Chris had often wondered if he ought to feel guilty about loving Vin. Was it besmirching Sarah's memory? Was it belittling the love he had felt for his wife and child? Many would think so. Many folk would condemn the love he had found in Vin's arms but, on the day Adam was born, Chris had discovered that it was possible to love more than one person beyond life itself without feeling any less love for another. He knew he would love Sarah and Adam to the end of time, and loving Vin equally would never change that.

Chris turned away from the lonely bed, moving towards the closet where he considered hanging up his duster to keep all the trail dust from spreading through the room. He glanced down, seeing the small pool of blood seeping out from behind the door, and he froze. He had not seen Buck, Josiah and Nathan since leaving them in the saloon where Josiah reckoned he was going to get great service after the altercation with the bartender. With a feeling of dread curling in his belly he, slowly, reached out and opened the door, sighing in relief when he realized the body hanging there was not one of his friends.

Chris stood by while the bartender's large body was carried away. The sheriff was suitably annoyed by the murder, and then seemed even more irate when Chris refused to say anything in his own defense. Buck's sarcastic words cut through the diatribe and, with reluctance, the sheriff had to accept that it did look more like a means of warning Chris off. Still without a word, Chris waited until the sheriff had gone and then he turned away.

"Where you going?"

"Saloon."

He ignored Buck's question and Josiah's response, pushing his way inside the saloon, aware that sleep would be even more elusive now. He glared at a couple of men lounging in a corner table, and yet he felt no sense of victory when they departed hastily. Chris sat down heavily in the far seat, back to the wall, face partially hidden in the shadows, and he slopped some whiskey from a full bottle into his glass. He drank it down quickly, grimacing as the cheap whiskey burned all the way down from mouth to stomach before sitting uncomfortably in his empty belly.

Chris knew, straight away, that he was not going to wallow in whiskey this time. He'd done enough of that in those first few weeks after the murders, grateful that his powerful thirst for justice had outweighed his desire to view the world through the bottom of a whiskey bottle. He'd seen men who had given up on life in favor of whiskey, spending their days alternating between oblivion and their despair for that next shot of alcohol, and he had no intention of ever joining their ranks.

Buck hovered close by, leaning up against the bar next to Josiah, both men hesitant to intrude on him so Chris made a decision for them by holding up his empty glass and two fingers as a request to the new bartender to bring more glasses. Buck and Josiah exchanged a glance and then dropped into chairs around the table, accepting the drink Chris slopped into a glass and pushed towards them. Several hours later the bottle was still more than half full, none of them feeling too inclined to drink. Chris pushed away from the table, gave them a slight nod and walked away, not a single word having passed his lips the whole time.

He went back to the boarding room, threw the duster over the top of a spindly chair and stripped down to his underwear, and then he crawled beneath the rough blanket. The bed was old and lumpy, squeaking with every movement, and Chris was grateful Vin was not here after all. It was bad enough trying to muffle his cries when Vin played his games upon him back in the town. If he had to restrain his movements too then Chris figured he might die from frustration.

Of course they could have simply made up a bed on the floor.

The damn bed squeaked with rust as Chris fidgeted, feeling his body respond to the image of a naked Vin that he had created in his head. His hand fondled his slowly engorging shaft, teasing along the length and circling the flared head. Chris closed his eyes, conjuring up a beloved memory of Vin, seeing the pale, sweat-sheened skin glistening with an amber glow from the campfire. Soft moans of pleasure had seemed so loud in the silence of the night but there would be no one for miles to overhear their passion. The firelight had reflected back Vin's sandy brown hair, flickering, turning the cascading curls into a living flame...

He felt his erection wilt.

"Damn." Why did he have to think of fire?

Chris thumped the lumpy pillow several times and then laid back, eyes plastered on the ceiling above. Eventually he slept but his dreams were full of Sarah and Adam, moments from their lives racing before him in a jumble of brightly colored images. Everything was sharp and clear, every color so pure and hard. White was dazzling to his eyes, black was the color of the deepest shadows on a moonless night and blue... blue was the brilliance of Vin's eyes.

In his dream he was a bystander, watching as his memories rolled before him. He heard Adam's infectious laughter once more, smiling as Sarah chased their son around the room, tickling him. He watched as Sarah gathered eggs from the few chickens they had roaming around freely, her face filled with contentment, while Adam played at her feet. color leached from the scene as a shadow passed over their faces, the horses turning gray, and the bright sky filling with black smoke. Flashes of red, yellow and orange amid the drabness overwhelmed him, and he heard screams. Sarah and Adam stood maybe twenty feet in front of him, hands reaching out to him, screaming for him. He raced towards them but they never seemed to get any closer. He screamed as their skin began to blister, flames catching in their clothing, their hair turning to licks of fire...

Chris sat up, his body drenched in sweat and shaking uncontrollably. He swept a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, flicking the strands back from where they had become plastered against his forehead and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly. When he opened them the nightmare images had gone completely, leaving him alone in the drab boarding room. Chris hauled his tired frame from the bed and pulled back the curtain, watching as the night slowly gave way to the gray dawn of a new day. He paced back to the cabinet and slopped water into the bowl scooping up palmfuls in joined hands and splashing the warm water over his face. Ten minutes later he was dressed, his duster covering his lean figure. He pulled on his hat and left the room, heading straight to the saloon and that bottle of whiskey.

* * *

Ezra moaned when Vin pulled back the wagon cover, letting in gray light from the first streaks of the new day, and then jabbing at Ezra's still booted foot with the mare's leg.

"First light, Ezra."

He went back to tend to the small campfire, which already had coffee brewing on it, grinning when Ezra crawled out to join him. The gambler slumped down, accepting the tin mug and grimacing at the strong taste before reaching for the biscuits Vin had set out.

"Not much of a repast, Mr. Tanner. Coffee and biscuits."

"Best you're gonna get till we get to Eagle Bend, Ez. Might make ya a little more eager to get going."

JD bounded up and dropped down next to Ezra, a happy smile stretching across his face as he snatched up a biscuit and slurped on the hot coffee.

"Judge didn't seem to mind us all riding out to help Chris."

"That, my young friend, is because we are pursuing the path of justice, searching for the murderer of a woman and child. Though I suspect the name of Larabee plays no small role in his benevolence."

JD glanced across at Vin, some confusion in his eyes.

"Means, JD, that the Judge kind of likes Chris." Vin popped the last piece of biscuit in his mouth and stared at Ezra. "We ready to ride?"

"At this ungodly hour... never." Ezra brushed the stray crumbs of biscuit from his hands and gave Vin an exaggerated sigh. "But it appears I may have no choice in the matter."

"Nope."

Vin sprang to his feet, tied his horse to the back of the wagon and then began hitching up the mules. By the time he was through, Ezra and JD were saddled up.

"Figure we'll be in Eagle Bend in under three hours, if these damn mules would stop being so stubborn."

****

Chris nursed his second whiskey in silence, lost in his own memories of past and present. Another two hours passed before Josiah, Nathan and Buck made an appearance, looking rested for the most part and Chris bit into his lower lip as the three men ordered up a hearty breakfast. The thought of food made his stomach turn and, after more than two hours of inactivity, he was more than ready to forgo the dubious pleasure of eating and start looking for the killer.

Buck tried to cajole him into eating but Chris had to turn away from the sight of burnt toast, taking a quick sip of whiskey instead. He watched as Buck shoveled in a mouthful of runny egg and bacon. His stomach twisted violently, but Chris knew it had as much to do with the fact that he had not eaten since this time yesterday as with the dream that had plagued him during the night. The sip of cheap whiskey only made his stomach roil and even though he had been nursing rather than drinking the whiskey he pushed the glass aside. His annoyance with himself was swiftly turned on the others.

"Son of a bitch is close enough to kill a man in my hotel room. Why we sitting here eating breakfast?"

"Most important meal of the day."

The seemingly flippant response sent Chris's blood boiling and he slammed his fist down hard on the table.

"Think this a joke, preacher man."

"Easy, Pardner. Easy."

"Calm down now. Calm down."

Buck and Nathan looked perturbed by his sudden outburst, trying to calm him, and he could hear the confusion in Josiah's voice as he tried to appease him but Chris was too far on edge. He was tired, and he was feeling the weight of the past bearing down upon him. The man was close. Chris knew it deep in his gut, and the man was toying with him, playing his silent games with Chris.

"Nobody thinks this is a joke, Chris."

"Our search party's gonna get bigger real soon and that's gonna help, Chris. We're gonna find him."

Chris found himself steadying under Buck's words. He felt the rawness of grief and the tiredness from a bad night with little restful sleep slowly ebb as his friends rallied around, letting him know that they were there for him. His hair-trigger temper slowly came back under his control as he fought to accept Buck's calm assurances. However, at that very moment Jock Steele entered the saloon and strode up to the table, snapping the delicate hold Chris had regained on his fraying temper. Chris threw back his chair in disgust.

"Great."

This was just what he needed, a so-called literary man snooping around making up lies about his past and his family, and prying into his personal business. He stormed over to the door of the saloon, whiskey in hand, and took a quick gulp straight from the bottle, ignoring the strange and disapproving looks thrown his way. Eventually, the others finished their breakfast and moved towards the saloon door. He saw resolve in their faces, as if each had a task in mind and he left the saloon just ahead of them but was forced to stop as a man stepped into his path. Chris glared at the man who must have sensed the tight rein Chris had on his temper for he moved quickly out of Chris's way and into the saloon.

Splinters of wood exploded from the upright only a short distance from Chris's face, and he drew his gun fast, dropping into a defensive position as more shots ranged around him. He heard someone telling that fool, Steele, to get down and then heard Buck yell out to him, offering to cover him as he leaped to a far safer position than the meager cover he had found outside the saloon. Chris leaped over the rail, ignoring the bullets flying in his direction, having already figured out that he was the target. From what he could make out there were at least five gunmen lying in ambush for them, one of them holding position on the roof across the street. Chris realized, also, that unless they could neutralize that sniper on the roof, he would be easy pickings should he try to move again.

The gunfire ceased as a wagon rolled along the main street, reins clinking, wheels rattling... mules braying. Josiah looked back at Chris before his eyes returned to that strange sight in the middle of this gun battle, his low voice rumbling in bewilderment.

"What in heaven's name is that?"

The heavy canvas cover was pulled aside sharply, revealing three gunmen. Chris saw JD's gun blaze, his eyes following the path of the bullet to see one of the ambushers fall with a gut shot. He caught the flash from a rifle barrel and saw the familiar figure of Vin Tanner, rifle held tight as he took aim. Death raced from the rifle and the sniper on the roof fell victim to his sharp-eyed lover's deadly accuracy. Realizing the odds had changed out of their favor, the rest of their attackers ran off and Chris found his heart beating wildly with both delayed shock and the joy of seeing Vin. He squashed the feeling, aware that his control over his emotions was tenuous at best today, not wanting to risk making his love for Vin apparent.

"Now that was good timing."

Ezra was standing in the wagon, green eyes ablaze with pleasure. "Sorry for the delay."

"JD, Ezra. You'd best get down."

Chris watched as Vin reloaded the rifle and took careful aim at the three figures racing out of town on horseback. He fired and the man riding the paint arched up before slumping over in his saddle. Josiah shook his head in awe of Vin's skill and Chris saw a small smile of secret pleasure cross his lover's handsome face, twinkling in the blue eyes that met Chris's.

"Let's get after them."

****

The sun was burning high overhead, the dusty air choking them as they followed close behind the three fleeing ambushers. There was no call to stop and rest so canteens were quickly emptied down parched throats while on the move. Vin looked to Chris often, concerned by the closed expression on his face that grew colder with every passing mile. It was the only time he had ever felt at a loss, unable to read that face, unable to see any glint of life in seemingly dead eyes as Chris kept his green eyes focused straight ahead. However, Vin could see tension crackling in the taut muscles, in the white knuckles that gripped the reins too tightly, and in the protests of Chris's horse as its rider handled him with too heavy a touch. His sharp hearing caught JD's whispered concern to Buck, for Chris and for his horse, so Vin was grateful this journey was almost over. He knew Chris was not consciously aware of being cruel to his gelding, knew that his lover was probably not truly conscious of what was going on around him at all. That sharp mind was lost, being torn apart by the horrors of the past and the demands of the present, and Vin knew of only one way to reach him.

Vin pulled up alongside Chris, knowing how highly-strung his lover was and wishing they were alone so he could ease away some of that tension with soft words and caresses. He could feel waves of pain rolling off Chris, mixed in with a heavy dose of guilt and a soul-deep tiredness; a bad combination, especially where they were headed. When Chris turned to look at him, his eyes were still unreadable, and then they softened almost imperceptibly, and Vin saw fear there. He understood without words, without blatant signals, that Chris was holding himself under a tight rein and was afraid that any show of compassion from Vin would shatter that fragile control.

"Figured your tracks would lead here. Back under the rock they crawled out from." Vin raised his voice just slightly, enough to draw in the other men. "Welcome to Purgatory, boys. Real hellhole."

"Might want them alive. Find out who's paying them."

"There were three men." Vin paused momentarily, seeing Chris straighten slightly at his seemingly unnecessary words. He knew Chris understood the hidden venom; would recognize that they only needed one man alive to talk. "One of them was on a paint."

Vin turned his thoughts back to the men they were tracking, anger seething white hot below the calm surface he portrayed to the others. These men had set up an ambush intent on killing Chris. These cowards had tried to murder the most important person in his life. If they had succeeded then he would have tracked them down here, forced them to reveal who had paid them and then made sure each one of them died slow and hard. As to the man who hired them... Vin gave a sly, vicious smile as he recalled all the ways a man could die, inch by inch. As it was, they had not succeeded so he felt magnanimous enough to grant them all a quick death.

He was pulled out of his reverie by the sound of another horse approaching, and he looked around to see a small man astride what was little more than an oversize, overladen mule. It was the same man he had spotted near Buck during the gunfight at Eagle Bend.

"Howdy, boys."

"Good God Almighty."

Buck's exasperation and the expressions on the faces of Nathan and Josiah told Vin that this man was no threat to them physically but that he had not exactly ingratiated himself upon them either. Chris bristled, his stone face crumbling into annoyance and Vin looked back at the diminutive man, shaking his head as he wondered what this little fellow had done to rile Chris so badly.

Chris dug his spurs deep into his gelding's side and the horse leaped forward, leaving Vin and the others to catch up with him. As they rode into Purgatory Vin noticed Ezra sidling up to the newcomer.

"Mr. Steele. My compatriots tell me you're a servant of the muse. A literary man..."

Vin shook his head again, finally understanding why this man had repulsed Chris. He recalled one night a few months back, lying with Chris in front of a small campfire, listening as Chris gave him a short rant on the nosiness of folks and the vultures who fed them. He had been smarting over that story Mary Travis printed in her newspaper about the murder of his family under some misguided view that folks ought to be aware of his pain.

"My pain." Chris had snorted. "My ass. All she wanted was to sell her goddamn newspaper."

The memory faded as they pulled up by a hitching rail in front of one of the many cantinas. Vin watched as Chris dismounted before dragging Blackfox from his horse, telling Buck that they'd meet up at this cantina in one hour. Buck glanced in Vin's direction, giving him a questioning look that Vin answered with a quick shake of his head. Vin knew Chris wanted to be let be, knew Chris wanted both him and Buck to stay away while he worked his way through this pain but, still, he was pleased that Buck had the good sense to send Nathan along instead.

Vin watched Chris walk away with long, jerking strides and then he turned away with a soft sigh, eager to survey the rest of the hellhole that was Purgatory. Last time he was here there had been only Chris by his side and, although both men could handle themselves well, the odds of Vin getting out of the town alive were not favorable for Vin had recognized more than one man who might hold a grudge against him from his bounty hunting days. However, this time he was part of a mean looking gang of seven men. Eight if you counted Steele though Vin doubted anyone would be afraid of the little man. He watched as Ezra followed on behind Steele, entering the cantina, and he decided he would tag along with Buck and JD instead as they tried to find the man he had shot.

It didn't take that long and Vin watched a shudder go through Buck as they stared across at the man laid out in an open pine box. Vin chewed thoughtfully on a stalk of grass.

"JD. Take a look. See if there's a hole in his left shoulder." He saw JD balk at the idea of touching the dead man and cajoled him. "Ah... go on."

Buck was no more eager to check it out than Vin, and he tugged on JD, pushing him towards the coffin. Vin watched as JD gingerly rolled the body.

"The one on the paint pony?" JD had finally understood the significance of checking out this corpse. He glanced back up at Vin with eyes widened in amazement. "You are one hell of a shot, Vin."

Vin gave a shy grin, no longer feeling so modest about his skills now he understood how much more he had gained from them than the mere ability to track and kill a man. The next time Chris praised them skills, Vin was going to tell him what they truly meant to him, especially when he had Chris lying beside him.

A gunshot echoed through the street and Vin turned towards the sound, his thoughts and fears instantly turning to his highly-strung lover, wishing he had gone with Chris after all. Then he realized it was far more likely that Steele had managed to get himself in trouble with the hard men of this town. They walked into the cantina and saw Ezra shaking his head in amazement. JD stared at the crowd gathered ahead.

"Heard a gunshot."

"Thought maybe someone killed the little fellow", Vin added, secretly hoping it wasn't the case despite Chris's annoyance with the man.

"Kill? Hell, they're about ready to elect him president."

Steele came over, a wide smile plastered across his face, eyes shining in excitement.

"Dan Barnes", he exclaimed. "Aha. _The_ Dan Barnes."

"Bloody Hand Barnes", Vin added when it was obvious that nobody else recognized the name.

Barnes was one of the bounties he had been intending to take up before Eli Joe put paid to his bounty hunting days.

All conversation stopped as Chris stalked into the cantina, going straight up to the bar, his face a grim mask. Blackfox followed, leaning on the bar next to him but a glare from Chris had him straightening, and a shove from Nathan had Blackfox moving away altogether. Vin could see concern in Nathan's dark eyes as he gaze at Chris, could read tension in the large man's frame as he hovered over their accepted leader and friend. Something bad must have happened to get Nathan into mother hen mode but Vin had a feeling he was not going to find out until Chris was good and ready to tell him. However, that was not going to happen here and now, so Vin retreated over to the table where JD, Ezra and Josiah sat. He leaned against the wall behind Josiah, eyes scanning the cantina, protecting Chris's back while Buck approached Chris. The soft words drifted across, caught by his sharp hearing.

"Find 'em?"

"I found the one. Dead."

"Each time we get close to someone they end up in a pine box."

Vin sighed softly, hearing the despair in his lover's voice, knowing he could do little to help Chris track down these other men. He knew the gunshot wound inflicted would not have been enough to kill the man under normal circumstances and Vin had a suspicion that someone else had a hand in silencing that man. It was unlikely that the other two would stick around, more terrified of the man who had hired them than of the seven men who had chased them from Eagle Bend. Vin watched as Jock Steele raced across, waving a photograph in triumph, seeing the eagerness in the man as he sought to share this latest triumph.

Vin glanced over Josiah's shoulder as Ezra passed the photograph around the table, seeing the clarity of the captured image and imagining what it would be like to have a likeness of Chris that he could carry in his pocket. Vin frowned. Something about that photograph was calling to him and he snatched it from Josiah's hand, staring at it until he understood what had grabbed his attention. He walked over to Chris, ignoring Steele who was following on behind trying to recover his precious photograph, and Vin placed it in front of his lover, pointing out a figure.

"Right there in the corner. Notice the glove and the cheroot."

Steele pushed his way between Chris and Vin, eager to tell Chris all about the photograph.

"Where was this taken?"

"Ah... here. About an hour ago."

Vin stepped back as Chris swept Steele aside with a single shove. Chris pointed out the figure in the photograph to Blackfox who had been forced over by Nathan.

"Okay. That him?"

"Yeah. That's the man who killed your family."

Chris pushed away from the bar and wandered across the room, staring at the angles to see where the photograph had been taken, and then glancing at the men standing around to ascertain if any of them had been present at that time. He spotted one man leaning up against the bar at the far end of the cantina walked over to him, placing the photograph in front of him. Vin stepped forward when the man ignored Chris's question but Buck beat him there, drawing his gun and sticking it against the man's ribs. Chris asked his questions again.

"What's his name? _What_ is his name?"

"Fowler. Cletus Fowler."

Buck shoved the man aside angrily, eyes intent on Chris's face as Chris stared at the figure in the photograph.

"That name mean anything to you?"

Chris raised confused eyes. "Never heard of him."

****

They had searched all over Purgatory but the man had gone and, eventually, Vin had picked up a trail leading back towards Eagle Bend. The group mounted up and headed back, the pace just as hard as before but Vin had noticed an increased despair etching lines into Chris's face. By the time they reached the town, night had fallen and, after a check around the town had shown no sign of their prey or his big gray horse, they stumbled into the saloon feeling saddle sore and tired from the long ride to Purgatory and back. They gathered around a table, passing a bottle of whiskey from man to man, not even caring that Jock Steele had seated himself in their midst. Vin could see from their expressions that each man was feeling the pull of sleep, even Chris, though Vin knew the man would fight it.

The others drifted away, one by one, until Vin was alone with Chris. He spoke to him gently, keeping his voice low so it would not carry in the almost empty saloon.

"How're you doing, Cowboy?"

Chris pursed his lips and then sipped at his whiskey, tongue tracing his lips to catch the spilled droplets. He didn't answer with words, instead his eyes told Vin all he needed to know and Vin felt his heart go out to his lover. Although Chris had told him some of what had happened that night, Vin was only now seeing the true personal cost of that tragedy. He could only imagine what it must have been like for Chris to come face to face with the smoldering ruins of his home--and the burnt remains of the wife and child he had loved.

Vin could not help a momentary pang of guilt as he considered that their deaths had been his gain. Had Chris not lost his family then they may never have met, and even if they had met then there would have been no chance of a relationship between them beyond a simple friendship. Chris was one of those men who took his vows deadly serious. He had promised to keep only unto Sarah until death parted them and Vin knew he would have kept that vow.

Although Chris had fooled around with working girls like Lydia since becoming his lover, they had been only a smokescreen to hide their physical relationship. Vin gave a wry grin and then emptied his glass of whiskey. Just as he knew Chris would never have even considered such dalliances while Sarah was alive, Vin was also aware that Chris would never take another man into his bed while he and Vin were together. Only the need to keep their relationship secret had made his visits to Lydia a necessary evil, and Vin was fully aware of how guilty Chris still felt about it.

"Best go get some sleep, Vin. Plan to start looking again at first light."

Vin nodded, accepting the unsaid words that Chris wanted to be alone tonight. He pushed back his chair, climbed to his feet and walked away, not daring to look back in case his resolve failed and he found himself dragging Chris out of there and into his bed. The walk through the quiet town was unsettling, as if he sensed hungry eyes feeding upon him. Vin made a swift detour to the sheriff's office and checked all was well with their prisoner and then he wandered back through the town.

His wagon was where he had left it, his few possessions intact but then he had paid the livery owner well to look after both the wagon and the mules for him. Vin climbed into the back, asleep before his head hit the makeshift pillow. He was awoken a few hours later; the familiar scent and touch of his lover quickly pushing aside any fear. Without a word, he drew Chris into his arms and held him, spooning up behind the lean figure, knowing that Chris needed this more than anything else.

He awoke again before dawn as he felt Chris slide from his arms, wishing the night could have lasted just a little longer.

****

**Two days later:**

Chris rode back into Eagle Bend, aware that he looked pale and drawn, but he'd had little appetite and even less sleep since the day the Judge had knocked on his door. He had spent most of this day riding out to nearby ranches, trying to gain answers from hostile folk. Chris had the impression that some of them were familiar with the man he sought but were too afraid to speak up. It painted a nasty picture, and it made him realize why he had found nothing during those three fruitless years of searching.

The long ride back from this last ranch had given him time to think about Cletus Fowler, about the kind of man who could instill such fear in others despite his obvious deformity. The men who had ridden with him when he murdered Sarah and Adam had been executed, leaving no witnesses to his crime so Chris was left with the impression that this was a man without conscience; a professional killer hired by another to do their dirty work. It would explain why he had no idea of who this man was, and why this man should hold a grudge against him and his family.

Blackfox had said it had something to do with the land but, after all these years, no one had made any attempt to claim the Larabee land. The water still flowed in the same spot, and his old neighbors were still sitting on the adjoining land, undisturbed. It made no sense. He'd even considered, at one point, that maybe the man behind it all had been Sarah's father, but no one could have faked the depth of grief and anger he displayed on losing his daughter and grandchild. Their shared grief should have healed the rift between them but, instead, Hank had held Chris totally to blame.

Another thought had crossed his mind during the long ride back. Who had been the target?

There had been no one lying in wait when he and Buck reached the still smoldering remains of the ranch and, until a few days ago, Chris had firmly believed that it had been a random act of violence perpetrated by some drifter. There had been no way to tell if anything had been stolen, and Chris had shied away from learning if Sarah had been raped before her violent death.

Chris came to a halt near JD, accepting the presence of Jock Steele with a single glance.

"Anything?"

The silence told him more than words. Chris felt as if they were being led around, chasing their own tails like some loco dog. All they were getting was a bunch of lies, too much sun and a mouthful of dry dust. There had to be a better way of finding this man.

"What do we do now?"

He barely spared Steele another glance even though he was amazed by the enthusiasm in the little man. Even JD was starting to flag but not this man. Steele was like a bloodhound searching for a trail to follow though, in his case, Chris was certain the end result would be a pack of lies presented in the form of a dime-store novel. Chris wondered why Steele even bothered to ride out with the others, figured he could just as easily sit in the saloon and let the lies come to him.

Chris frowned, an old memory stirring. He licked his parched lips and dropped down from his horse.

"I need a drink."

Behind him he heard Steele start to moan. "Come on. Everything's gonna grind to a halt if Larabee starts wallowing around inside of a bottle."

"I assume your concern is for a man who lost his family."

Josiah's deep voice carried across as he stepped up towards the saloon, and he heard Steele's back-pedaling as he crossed the threshold, making him smile for the first time in days.

****

Vin brushed off the dust and stepped inside the saloon, heading over and standing in front of the table where Chris was sitting alone with an ever-present bottle of whiskey.

"We're ready to keep looking. Sheriff and some of the local boys have agreed to help."

"Where do you think he is, Vin?"

"Don't know."

Vin felt his spirits lift a little. The others were milling about outside, all ready to head on out again and mumbling about Chris losing it, so Vin had feared the worst. Vin drew out a chair and sat down, stretching his legs out before him before slumping into the seat, trying to ease the kinks in his back from too many hours spent in the saddle. From their comments he had half-expected to find Chris belligerent and drunk, but the man who sat before him was clear-eyed and clear-headed.

"But after that brush at Purgatory he knows that there are seven men gonna hunt him down. Hell, he's probably long gone."

"My gut tells me different."

Vin listened carefully, aware that his own gut was telling him the same but he had not wanted to raise false hopes for Chris. As Chris told him the story of the mountain lion that he had tracked, Vin reflected on his own memory of a similar hunt where the prey had turned the tables on him, turning him from hunter to hunted. Eli Joe was still out there somewhere, an elusive figure just like Cletus Fowler.

"I was tracking that cat. All the while he was behind me. Watching me. That's how I feel about Fowler."

"Fine line between hunter and hunted. All the more reason for us to go get him first."

Vin started to pull himself up, more eager than ever to start looking for fear that Fowler was just waiting for another opportunity to strike out at his lover.

"Wait. Have a drink."

Vin eyed Chris askance, hearing a note in the other man's voice that intrigued him. It screamed out that Chris had an idea. The almost full glass of whiskey was slid across the table top towards him and Vin downed it in one, grimacing as the alcohol did little to ease the soreness in his throat from all the dust he had been eating these last few days. He noticed that the bottle had hardly been touched and he smiled wryly knowing that, despite appearances to the contrary, Chris had hardly been drinking at all since this manhunt began. It was fatigue rather than alcohol that had robbed Chris of some of his cat-like grace.

"Figured out something else. Man we're looking for is a hired killer. Someone else paid him to kill Sarah and Adam. I want that someone."

Vin nodded. The same thought had crossed his mind too but he hadn't wanted to burden Chris with more grief until they caught Fowler. At first Vin had secretly hoped that they could find and kill Fowler without Chris ever realizing Fowler's paid role in the murders. That way Chris would have been able to put the horror of the past behind him forever. However, Vin knew that was all a pipe dream. The past had a way of catching up with a man no matter how hard he tried to twist away from it. All it would have gained was more grief when Chris did figure it out--and the lies would most probably have destroyed their friendship.

Fifteen minutes later, Chris had outlined his plan and Vin felt a momentary pang of fear as he realized how vulnerable Chris would be during its implementation. It all hinged on Fowler being egotistical enough to want to gloat about his prowess and about his part in the murders of the Larabee family. If they had misread him then Chris would not stand a chance. Vin sighed. It was a gamble they had to take.

"Man's playing silent games with us. Reckon it's time we called his hand."

He reached over the table, offering his own hand, and he looked deep into those soft green eyes as his arm was clasped. Vin's heart skipped a beat, and it took all of his control not to haul Chris over the table and ravish those perfect lips. He smiled, seeing the pleasure in those tired eyes as Chris read his thoughts with ease.

Vin moved swiftly to his feet and left the saloon, eager to put the plan in motion. He whispered to Buck before mounting up and then turned to the others who had been waiting patiently for his return.

"Okay. Meet back up here in three days."

"I can't believe Larabee's not coming."

Vin ignored Steele's words, knowing all would be explained once they had ridden a safe distance away to the meeting place he had whispered to Buck.

"Let's head out."

As he urged his horse onwards, Vin took one last glance back at the saloon, making a silent promise that he would hunt Cletus Fowler to the ends of the earth if this plan went wrong and Chris died.

****

**The Following Morning:**

Chris stared at the burned remains of the livery, reliving the moment when Cletus Fowler had told him to go to hell and then stepped into the blazing inferno. It was poetic justice that Fowler had died in the same manner as Sarah and Adam but it had left Chris with no leads on the man who had hired him.

He registered a presence behind him but Chris did not need to turn to know that Vin was standing at his back, watching over him. He sighed, thankful that he had found someone like Vin who knew when to leave him be, and when he needed to feel he was not alone in this harsh world. He turned, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"Boys have gone back ahead of us. Reckon they didn't want to be slowed down by no damn wagon drawn by mules." Vin tilted his head, a gentle smile playing about his soft lips. "Also figured you'd want to take it slow."

"Figured right." Chris turned back to the ruins, knowing Vin had checked through the livery to ensure Cletus Fowler had not found a way to escape his fiery death. "Judge's going to be put out that we lost Blackfox but, hell, what's the difference. Slit belly or stretched neck, the man's paid for his crimes. Justice was served."

Vin nodded wisely, although Chris was certain that it would make a vast difference to Vin.

"Some fellas' crawled out from beneath a rock. Told me where Fowler's been laying low. Not much there but I gathered all I could and threw it in the wagon. Figured you'd want to go through it. See if he left any clues to who hired him."

"Man had all the details in his head, considered himself a professional. Don't reckon we're going to find anything." Chris squeezed his eyes shut tight. "Still senseless, killing a woman and child but at least I now know it weren't a random killing. Fowler said I was the target, that they were just unlucky." He snorted in derision. "Unlucky. Hope the bastard burns in Hell."

Chris felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, his head turning automatically to graze the knuckles with his cheek.

"Let's take the long road home, Cowboy."

Chris sighed heavily. "You figure we could make a small detour?"

Vin gave him a small smile, knowing exactly where Chris wanted to go and, a few hours later they stood side by side, staring at the two crude crosses that marked the graves of Sarah and Adam Larabee. Chris felt his hand taken and he squeezed the fingers tightly, feeling all Vin's love for him in that simple, reassuring touch. Eventually, he turned away but instead of mounting up, he clambered onto the wagon beside Vin, wanting to feel the comforting presence of the man who had filled the gaping hole in his soul from where Sarah and Adam had been ripped away in a moment of senseless violence.

Vin slapped the reins and Chris had to smile as the mules turned their heads to give them both a disdainful look before moving off. He had a feeling it was going to take more than a few days to get back to the town they protected but Chris knew the journey would pass far too quickly nonetheless. He pressed up closer to Vin, feeling the strong body push back against him, and slowly he let his memories of the past drift away, focusing instead on the night that lay before them, and on Vin's games that could be played without silence.

THE END


End file.
